


Tongue Behind My Teeth

by Fever_of_Stingrays



Category: The Morning Show (TV 2019)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:00:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22740625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fever_of_Stingrays/pseuds/Fever_of_Stingrays
Summary: Maggie and Alex are broken up. But after the worst day of her life, there is only one person Alex wants to talk to.
Relationships: Alex Levy/Maggie Brenner
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	1. Stand & Sigh

_A. Levy: Are you at the bar?_

Maggie won’t sleep if she doesn’t drink two ice cold gin martinis at her favorite bar across the street. It’s a quiet place, dark, unassuming. The bartender perfectly times when he slides her next drink across the bar, just as the last drops of the first ease down her throat. 

Before, Maggie had been quietly disdainful of Alex Levy. Jealous too. Of the money, the fame, everyone vying for her affection. Maggie never wanted affection, she wanted respect. For years, she and Alex avoided each other, smiling politely when circumstances called for it. 

They had been at some industry party: horrible people trapped in a horrible room, the open bar the only thing that made conversation bearable. Maggie was leaning against the bar, dark eyes scanning, making a list of the people she talked to. Tonight was off the record—officially. But everyone stayed on guard when it came to Maggie Brenner, and no one who talked with her tonight would be surprised to hear from her. 

“Vodka, neat, please.” 

Maggie’s eyes slid to her right and rolled heavenward when she saw Alex next to her. 

“Maggie.” Alex nodded, sipping her vodka delicately. 

“Alex.” 

Neither of them felt like pretending they had anything to say to each other, so they stood there, watching as the night wound down around them. Alex broke the silence first, snorting as an editor for _The Wall Street Journal_ slid his arm down the back of the young reporter he was talking to. 

“Jesus, what a prick,” Maggie murmured to herself. “Hold this for a second, would you?” she asked, not waiting for a response before pressing her glass into Alex’s hand. 

She sauntered over to the twosome, sliding neatly between them; focusing her attention on the editor. Alex watched as Maggie threw her head back in a passable imitation of laughter and caught the eye of the young woman next to her. Maggie jerked her head and the girl vanished in an instant when she realized what Maggie was doing. The brunette stayed for a moment longer, then stepped away as two of the editor’s colleagues joined them. 

Alex handed Maggie her drink, raised an eyebrow. “That was...sweet of you,” she said disbelievingly. 

Maggie took a long sip of her drink and shrugged. “I hate that bullshit.” She eased off her heels onto the stool behind her and looked at Alex.

As usual, she was in black: a slinky jumpsuit paired with a gold heel, nails nude, oversized black watch (Chopard, _naturally_ ), black clutch, and bare, golden arms. Her hair was freshly highlighted, some of the white blonde wisps escaping from the knot gathered loosely at the nape of her neck. She looked perfect, as always. Maggie realized she was staring and realized Alex had noticed her staring. 

“Can I help you?” Alex said haughtily, brushing a non-existent speck of dirt from her jumpsuit, her foot tapping impatiently. God, even the way she spoke drove Maggie nuts. Maggie rolled her eyes freely this time, exaggerating the movement for Alex’s benefit. 

“You look like shit Levy,” Maggie said. It came out a little too mean and she sighed, ready to apologize. Alex surprised her and laughed out loud, warm and husky. 

“Oh fuck you— of course I look like shit, I’ve been up since three.” Alex laughed again, motioning to the bartender. “You want another?” 

Maggie stared at her, the laughter still ringing in her ears, a sound she’d never heard before, not from Alex Levy, not like that. “No, I should be going. It’s after eleven, it’s about to get messy,” she said, gesturing around the dimly lit room. 

Alex took her glass from the bartender, knocked it back in one. “No messiness, not for Maggie Brenner, toast of the town, everyone’s favorite enemy.” She snorted again, the sound incongruous with her sunkissed perfection. 

Maggie looked at her and chuckled. “You know something Levy? I think this is the first real conversation we’ve ever had.” 

Alex tilted her head. “And whose fault is that?” 

“Yours, of course.” 

“Mine? I’ve never been anything but polite to you. You’re the one who has the complex about me.”

The bartender filled Alex’s glass again at her wave. Her eyes edged toward grey in the low light. She looked dangerous. She looked beautiful. 

“Complex?” _That’s it._ Maggie smiled at the bartender. “Martini. Gin, with a twist.” 

“Yes.” Alex perched on her stool primly, one long leg dangling over the other with the effortless elegance that beautiful women have. “You’ve always thought what I do is beneath you, hell, maybe you think it’s beneath me. Did you think I hadn’t noticed your dripping disdain all these years?” 

Maggie was speechless. If she was being honest, she’d thought Alex hadn’t noticed her at all. America’s Sweetheart, America’s Golden Girl, America’s Wife. What would she care what Maggie thought about her? 

Alex laughed again. “I’m not stupid. I know you think my job is, but I swear I’m not.” 

“I know that.” Maggie said quietly. “I think that’s what drives me nuts about you. I can tell how smart you are, and I have never been able to figure out why you are wasting your time at _TMS_. Dealing with Mitch’s bullshit? For the fame, for the money? Jesus, is it that all you want for yourself?” _Shit._ She’d gone too far, as usual. 

Alex didn’t look mad, she looked thoughtful, wistful. “Something like that,” she said, looking Maggie with that razor sharp directness. “Money. Power. Fame. I was young, it’s what I told myself I wanted. I got it. Now? Well.” Alex uncrossed her legs, re-crossed them. “Too late to whine about what I wish I’d done differently.” 

Maggie finished her drink, making her mind up in a split second. She stood up; offered a hand to Alex. “Let’s get out of here. Let me buy you a drink.” 

Alex looked at her skeptically. “Maggie. I’m not asking for an apology.” 

“Did you hear me apologize? I’m offering you a drink, not doing penance.” Maggie said as she smoothed the bright blue fabric of her dress over her sides. “Get up.” 

“I don’t usually go...out,” Alex said, hesitating. “I can’t just walk into a bar, you know.” 

Maggie rolled her eyes again. “Jesus Christ Levy, I get it, you’re famous. I’m not taking you to the fuckin’ Olive Garden, get up.” 

Alex laughed again, and it was then that Maggie realized she had been _trying_ to make her laugh. “Fine. You’re lucky I don’t have to get up tomorrow.” She raised an eyebrow at the brunette. “And Maggie? We’re off the record.”


	2. Golden River Running

A.Levy: _ I miss you. _

Maggie brought Alex back to this bar many times, usually after parties they couldn’t wait to escape, the two of them catching each other’s eye across the room. Alex would arch one of those perfect brows; Maggie would nod. 

It was friendly at first. Flirtatious, sure, but they were used to flirting with everyone they talked to; always wanting to keep a listener hanging on the end of every sentence. Nothing happened until the night it snowed six inches in two hours and kept on snowing, blanketing the city fairytale drifts of white. Alex sent her driver home, assuring him she’d be fine, that she’d bunk with Maggie, just across the street. She was leaning against the wall, cackling and wiping tears from her eyes as Maggie did a pitch perfect impression of Fred.

“Jesus. I have got to get some sleep,” she said, raising her arms and stretching like a cat.

It was Friday, it was always Friday for the two of them. They’d meet late, 10 or 11, and stay until 1, Alex’s car a hulking shadow out front. Ben the bartender had warmed instantly to Alex; Maggie watched her turn on the charm until he was half in love with her.

Maggie groaned, feeling a little reckless and unsettled at the prospect of Alex being in her house. Thinking about why made her nervous and Maggie hated feeling nervous. “Come on Alex. Live a little, we’ve got the bar to ourselves.” 

“Brenner, it’s almost two thirty in the morning, we have lived enough for tonight.” Alex said while searching for her boots. Maggie sighed dramatically, but got up and started putting on her coat, already wincing at the damage the snow would do to her shoes, thankful she lived across the street. They shouted goodnight to Ben, tucked a pile of cash on the bar for him, and pushed the door open as one, breathing in the sharp, clear air. 

“God, it’s gorgeous,” Alex said, looking up and grinning as the snowflakes fell around her. “Maggie, isn’t it gorgeous?” 

Maggie wasn’t looking at the snow, she was looking at Alex, snow in her hair, eyes wide and sparkling. “Stunning.” 

They were already standing close, Maggie’s arm slung around Alex’s tiny shoulders, Alex’s arm at Maggie’s waist. It wasn’t hard for Maggie to lean over, for her to slowly cover Alex’s mouth with her own, not quite believing what she was doing as. They melted into each other; Maggie’s mouth was strong and soft and she nipped Alex’s bottom lip with her teeth before she came to her senses and pulled away.

“Fuck. Sorry, Levy. That last martini went to my head.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out her keys, not waiting for Alex to follow before she darted across the street, snow up to her knees. Alex caught up with her as she unlocked the front door of her brownstone, and pulled Maggie’s jacket to look her in the eye. 

“Do you make it a habit of kissing people when drinks go to your head?” Alex asked softly. 

“Jesus, Alex, let it go will you? I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.” Maggie opened the door, kicked off her boots, threw her coat on the rack the entryway, and headed straight for the kitchen. Maggie grabbed a bottle from the freezer, found two glasses and poured them each a healthy measure.

“Maggie.” Alex leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. “Can we talk about this?” 

“The guest room is just on the left once you get upstairs,” Maggie said, sliding Alex’s drink down the island. “I’m exhausted; I should turn in.” She tried to slip past Alex, giving her a wide berth, but Alex grabbed her wrists and forced her to stillness. 

“Jesus Christ Maggie, you don’t listen to anyone, do you?” Alex said, half amused, half annoyed. She didn’t give Maggie time to respond before she dove for her mouth, not gentle this time; hot and desperate. Maggie made a noise of surprise but Alex swallowed it, her tongue licking into Maggie’s mouth. Their hips pressed together as Maggie slid her fingers through Alex’s hair, noting the way the blonde moaned as she kissed her throat, the sound ringing in her ears. Alex pulled back first, eyes glittering with satisfaction. 

“If you don’t want to talk about this, fine.” Alex said, breathing hard. “But I’m  _ not _ staying in the guest room.”


	3. Your Voice is Like Silver

A.Levy: _Maggie, please._

Maggie was on her third drink. It had been months since their last fight, since the last time they spoke like friends, like lovers. They never fought about Alex’s marriage, it had been falling apart for years. Jason simply hadn’t factored into what they were to each other. Their work had been at the root of every snide comment, every irritated text, every knock down, drag out fight. Maggie’s star was rising; she was writing bigger pieces about the industry and getting awards while Alex was stuck managing Mitch and his temper. Their last fight was about him— or rather about Alex’s refusal to admit what she was doing when she mocked the women who slept with him— who got replaced by more women who slept with him.

“They’ll replace you Alex!” Maggie shouted one morning. “Jesus Christ, do you think they give a fuck that you’ve been ‘one of the boys’ this whole time? You aren’t thirty years old anymore, they will replace you and you’ll be _done_ , just like that. Your career, over. Is that what you want? To be tossed aside for fucking Mitch Kessler? They will always pick him over you, why can’t you see that! You told me you weren’t stupid and I believed you, but I can’t watch you _act_ this stupid anymore.”

“Oh fuck you Maggie,” Alex hissed, tears in her eyes. “How nice it must be to lord over the rest of us down in the trenches while you get lunch with Fred Micklen _again_ . Writing your little magazine pieces while I have to get up every day and sit next to Mitch, trying to keep my head above water while my _fucking_ girlfriend is upstairs covering the network’s ass yet again. And you think _I’m_ acting stupid? Fine. Fuck you, I’m done.”

That was six months ago. They’d been perfectly cordial in public since, a farcical return to the way they’d been before. It took Maggie three months to stop making immediate eye contact with Alex when she entered a room; she was still pulled to that bright blue gaze like a magnet. Mitch had been fired three weeks ago, and Maggie had spent too many nights drafting and deleting texts to Alex that started with _I’m so sorry_ or _Are you okay_ or _Bradley Jackson, Alex, seriously?_

That was the first time in a long time Maggie had seen the Alex Levy she used to know, resplendent in red, anger blazing from her fingertips. She ducked behind the curtain on stage when Alex made her announcement, unable to stop the hysterical laughter from bubbling up in her chest, praying they had cut her mic.

Maggie had gone to that stupid Broadway party because she was expected to and she knew her absence would have been noticed. She watched Alex floating through the room, Maggie could see the tension in her neck, the way her fingers wound around her glass of champagne. Maggie had interviewed Bradley earlier that day and was surprised to find she liked the woman— she was sharp, funny and seemed to have a surprisingly accurate read on Alex Levy. Maggie found herself wondering if “obnoxious brunette” was Alex’s type and hating herself for thinking it. 

Ben nodded toward her empty glass. Maggie shook her head, tapping her fingers on the bar, still lost in thought. Alex had managed to quietly announce her divorce yesterday, barely a line dedicated to it in Page Six. It helped that she and Bradley had _also_ blown up their show yesterday, calling out Fred and the network just before the live feed was cut. Maggie had watched in her living room, mouth agape, filled with something that felt a lot like pride.

Maggie slipped her coat on, finally looking at Alex’s car outside. Her heart was pounding as she watched the car window slide down. Alex looked perfect as ever, despite the fact that she had probably been screamed at by lawyers for the majority of her day— hair loose around her face, black turtleneck tucked under her strong chin. Maggie stopped, a reluctant smile curling around the side of her mouth.

“Levy. Good to see you.” Maggie pulled a cigarette out of her pocket and lit it, exhaling steadily out of the side of her mouth.

“You could have texted me back.” Alex said drily. “I’ve had _quite_ a day.”

“Mm. I bet.” 

Alex looked at her with that frank gaze but her eyes were rimmed with red. “I just...I just didn’t want to go home to an empty house. After. Today.” 

Maggie sighed. The early spring breeze was brisk and she was tired, and she didn’t know how long she could pretend she wasn’t miserable without Alex in front of her. 

“Bradley is sick of you, then?” Alex’s cheeks flushed, and she refused to meet Maggie’s eye. Ah. Maggie _had_ picked up on something when she interviewed Bradley. 

“She’s not...we’re not….it’s not like that.” Alex said quietly. “Anymore.” 

The hot flash of jealousy that raced through Maggie at Alex’s admission surprised her. She dropped her cigarette and ground it into the pavement with her heel. “So you’ve come crawling back to me in your hour of need?” 

Alex’s eyes flashed. “Do you always have to be like this? Does everything have to be some goddamn Greek tragedy with you?” 

“Pretty fucking rich of you to accuse me of dramatics after your performance yesterday,” Maggie snapped, crossing her arms. 

“If you had any idea of what the last three fucking weeks have been like, Maggie, I swear to god, you would be applauding.” Alex said, fighting to keep her voice level. 

“The fact that you don’t already know how proud of you I am is exactly your problem.” Maggie hissed. “Jesus Alex, aren’t you tired thinking so little of me?” 

“Has it ever occurred to you that this is not about you? That I did something for _myself_?” 

“I know just how capable you are of doing things for yourself Alex. I don’t need a reminder.” 

Alex laughed tonelessly, shaking her head. “God, I had forgotten what fighting with you was like.” 

“I didn’t.” Maggie said, burrowing her neck into the warmth of her scarf. “But I _am_ freezing, and if you are going to keep yelling at me, I’d rather it be in the comfort of my home.” 

Alex laughed again, lighter this time. “Are you sure? I remember how our fights used to end.”

Maggie did too—Alex’s hands hot and everywhere on Maggie’s skin—but she nodded anyway. “The last thing you need right now is to get photographed screaming at me in the street.” 


	4. The Colors of Another Sky

It was warm in Maggie’s entryway, and Alex let out her breath as she took in the familiar surroundings. “You got rid of that painting,” she said, wandering into the living room and sinking onto the couch. “I always hated that painting.” 

Maggie rolled her eyes as she headed to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of red and two glasses. “You were never particularly subtle on that point.” 

“I figured you’d keep it after we ended things. You told me it was your favorite piece of art in the house.” Alex said, raising an eyebrow as she took her glass of wine. 

“I missed arguing with you about it too much. Couldn’t look at it.” Maggie was aiming for light and airy, but she heard the melancholy in her voice. “Anyway. Do you want to yell at me some more or do you want to tell me about yesterday?” 

Alex leaned back and closed her eyes. “Hannah…” her breath caught in her chest, but she pushed past it. “Hannah died. Two days ago. Mitch raped her in Vegas. Bradley was pushing her for an interview about it—they were going to sneak him onto  _ my  _ show under my nose—but then. Hannah died. Claire told Bradley barely an hour before we went on. I had just gotten Chip fired to save my own ass, I had gone running to Fred and was planning to get rid of Bradley too, just to have some fucking  _ control _ over my goddamn life again. Underhanded and scheming and just  _ awful _ I mean, how could I have agreed to that? I was the one who chose Bradley, I made one frankly insane decision and upended her entire life and I was ready to fucking toss her out on her ass if it meant saving mine. Who  _ does  _ that? I mean, what kind of person? What kind of person has this job made me?” 

She took another breath and followed it with a sip of wine. “Of course, Bradley tried to leave because, Jesus, why wouldn’t she? And I couldn’t let her do that, or I can’t do it without her, or I don’t want to do it without her, and I made her come back upstairs after—god you’ll love this— I screamed at a man on the sidewalk who wanted to take a picture with me. Can’t wait to see that fucking footage on YouTube. You know me, I can shut myself down and let  _ Alex Levy _ take over when I have to, but I was sitting there and that new fucking producer Marlon said something about grief counselors for the staff, as if that would make everything better, as if that would bring Hannah back, and I-I-I,” Alex hiccuped and bit back another sob.

Maggie hadn’t seen Alex like this in a long time; even then she’d never seen her this bad, this brittle and close to breaking. She moved closer to Alex on the couch, rubbing her back in slow, soothing circles. 

“I threw a mug of water in his face! It was so silent on set; I have never heard anything like it before. Bradley started the show when she realized I couldn’t, but I couldn’t sit still, I had to get up, I had to do something because  _ Hannah is dead _ and we didn’t help her at all, how could we have let that happen? How could  _ I let that happen? _ ” 

Tears were streaming down Alex’s face; she made a move like she was going to wipe them with her fingertips but was so trained not to touch her face that they just hovered there, inches from her skin. Maggie kept rubbing her back with one hand while grabbing some tissues from the table next to her with the other. Alex sniffled a thanks and pressed the tissues to her eyelids, tilting her head back. 

“I am so sorry Alex,” Maggie said softly. Her words released something in Alex and she started sobbing in earnest. Maggie gently reached over and pulled the sodden tissues from her hands and wrapped Alex in her arms, stroking her hair as she cried.

“I’ve got you, you’re okay, I’ve got you,” Maggie murmured over and over, her mind reeling as she tried to piece together Alex’s story. 

She hadn’t known Hannah well, but she knew she was damn good at her job. Her death was shocking in the way that it always was when someone young and beautiful died. Grotesque. Alex throwing Bradley under the bus was less surprising to Maggie than she would have ever admitted to Alex herself. Alex had her own back before anyone else, it was what allowed her to turn a blind eye to Mitch for so long, it was what got her where she was. Maggie found it nearly as enticing as she did repelling. That she would sell out Chip was more of a surprise—he had been by her side for so long Maggie assumed Alex would keep him there for the rest of time. It spoke to what the last three weeks had been like for her—that she was desperate enough to agree to get rid of Chip.

Alex’s sobbing had slowed and she was breathing steadily, listening to Maggie’s heartbeat and luxuriating in the feeling of Maggie’s fingers running through her hair. 

“They want us to take a leave,” she whispered. “They don’t want to fire us—they can’t afford that kind of publicity. But they want Bradley and I to take a leave while they figure out what to do about Fred—shuffle him to a less prominent role, some dark fucking back alley where he’ll make just as much money doing a lot of less work— and they want Alison and Daniel to host while we’re gone.” 

“What do you want?” Maggie asked, genuinely curious. 

“Fuck, I don’t know.” Alex said. She took a deep breath and sat up. “I can’t imagine walking onto that set again, but I can’t just walk away from it...can I?” 

Maggie chuckled softly and passed her some more tissues. “Alex, you can do whatever you want. And I mean that literally, not in the bullshit way people usually mean it. You have more money than God, you can do  _ whatever _ you want to do. You can take a break, you can stay on as host, you can fuck off and buy an island. If you want to walk away, you absolutely can.”

Alex moaned and pressed her fists into her eyes. “Yes. I know that. But god, leaving the shitstorm I created?”

Maggie drank her wine, shaking her head slowly. “You didn’t create it, Levy. You took part in it. You used it to your advantage. But you did not create it.”

Alex took a deep breath. “I am guilty of ignoring it, of using the way they treated me to my advantage when I could. If I want to make things better, I should be there. I can’t be on leave while that happens. They deserve that at least. Hannah deserved that much from me.”

Maggie rested her chin on her fist and smiled at Alex. “I am proud of you, you know.” 

Alex sighed. “I wish your opinion didn’t mean so much to me.”

“I didn’t know it still did.” 

“Only when everything else in my life goes to shit.” Alex smiled weakly and ran her hands through her hair. Maggie knew what would come next, what always came after Alex showed any emotion. She’d take a minute to collect herself, whittling her feelings back to an acceptable size, then she’d leave. 

As if on cue, Alex stood up, brushing imaginary flecks of something from her turtleneck. The nervous motion was so familiar to Maggie that it was almost comforting, but it tugged at her too, she had a sudden, wild desire to pull Alex back down on the couch and kiss her until she erased that heartbroken look from her face. 

“You don’t have to. Leave, I mean.” Maggie said, quietly enough that she could deny that she had said anything at all. 

Alex looked down at her, and slowly eased herself back onto the couch, holding Maggie’s gaze. For a moment they were silent, letting it fill the room around them until it seemed impossible that either of them would speak. 

They didn’t. Alex leaned over and gently brushed Maggie’s lips with her own, as if asking a question. Maggie didn’t hesitate, she pulled Alex onto her lap and slid her hands underneath the blonde’s turtleneck, relishing in the feeling of Alex’s smooth skin against her palms. Alex hummed in pleasure as Maggie kissed the long column of her throat, shifting slightly so she was properly straddling the older woman, snaking her hands up and under Maggie’s dark, heavy hair, winding it through her fingers. Maggie moaned as Alex ground herself against her thigh; the feeling of Alex in her arms was too much, she wanted her too much, she had never stopped wanting her. 

“Alex, wait, hang on a second,” Maggie said, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. Alex pulled back, her blue eyes huge and luminous as if lit from within, that perfect eyebrow arched. 

“Yes Maggie?” Alex asked sweetly, her innocent tone bellied by the path her hands had taken, out of Maggie’s hair and down to her waistband, fingertips dancing along the skin. It took all of Maggie’s focus and will to concentrate on what she wanted to say, not on the growing heat between her legs. 

“I...you’ve had a rough day and I didn’t want to...take advantage of that.” Maggie said sheepishly. Alex laughed. Her  _ real _ laugh, that husky and delighted sound that made Maggie’s knees weak. 

“My life is an unmitigated disaster right now, true,” Alex said, punctuating her sentence with a hard kiss that left Maggie a little breathless. “Sleeping with you would be a good distraction from that, also true.” Another kiss, deeper this time, tongues sliding against each other. Alex nipped her bottom lip and Maggie whimpered in the back of her throat. “But more than that, I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you for months, and I have spent these last few weeks thinking ‘God, I wish I could talk to Maggie about this,’ about Mitch, about Fred, about Bradley…” Alex trailed off when she felt Maggie tense underneath her and smirked. “I knew you were jealous about that.” 

Maggie tipped her head sideways, looking at Alex on her lap, her mouth swollen and red, hair disheveled. She pressed her lips to Alex’s throat, inhaling her familiar YSL perfume. “It’s a little hard to be jealous right now.” 

Alex hummed, and leaned back to look Maggie in the eye again. “It meant nothing—just a stupid kiss that we both regretted the minute it happened.” She paused and shifted a little, her eyes thoughtful. “I think she knows about us. Or suspects.” 

“I picked up on that when I interviewed her; I thought she had a crush on you.” Maggie said, running her hands up and down Alex’s thighs. Alex squirmed under her ministrations, looking slightly amused. 

“I think she thought she had a crush on me too— or that there was some sexual tension underneath us constantly yelling at one another,” Alex said. “Turns out we just get on each other's nerves.” 

Maggie laughed at that. “I thought you just got on my nerves too, you know.” 

“Well, I do, don’t I?” Alex leaned in again and pressed her forehead against Maggie’s, their breath tangling together. 

“Yes. You do.” Maggie said, and didn’t wait for a response before capturing Alex’s mouth again. She let herself get lost in Alex: the softness of her lips, the pressure of her body on top of hers, the heat radiating from Alex’s core against her leg. They moved together until they were horizontal, Alex pressing herself hard against Maggie, Maggie’s hands underneath Alex’s shirt, tracing patterns on her back. 

“Can we take this upstairs?” Alex asked as Maggie gracefully undid her bra with a flick of her wrist. “You’re too old to be having sex on a couch like a teenager.” 

Maggie scoffed. “ _ Too old _ ? You better watch it Levy, or you’re staying in the guest room.” 

Alex snorted, standing and tugging Maggie up with her. “How many times do I have to tell you I am not staying in your damn guest room?” 

Maggie laughed. “Never again,” she said, leading Alex up the stairs and to her bedroom. “Never again.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what it is about these two that I find so compelling! I certainly planned on this being a short, one shot thing and it is now...uh...multiple chapters? 
> 
> I borrowed the title from the song "Tongue Behind My Teeth," by The Staves, which is a very Alex Levy/Maggie Brenner song!


End file.
